Jack Granger, Auror
by cocoidie-18
Summary: Late for work one too many times, Jack is put on the most mundane case going. He must follow a Muggle detective around to make sure that the victim of a shooting was not killed because she was a witch. And then, another murder...
1. Posing

**Jack Granger, Auror**

Jack grinned as he stood in front of the mirror and flexed his muscles. He was just trying out a particularly masculine pose when a voice barked behind him.

"Granger! You better be on your way in!"

After a second of horror, Jack realised the voice had come from his fireplace in the other room, and not right behind him as he had first suspected. He winced. He was late for work again. He grabbed the nearest shirt and pulled it on before hurrying into the living room.

"Hey boss," he said hesitantly to the large head sitting in the middle of his usually dormant fireplace as he knelt before it.

"Damn Granger, you're late!" Phineas Well, the head of the Magical Law enforcement Department, or MLD, did not look in the best of moods.

"Come on boss, I was just on my way out."

Mr Well's anger was chased away by an amused surprise. "Dressed like that?"

Jack looked down at his rumpled shirt and lack of trousers. "Oh, right. So why the house call?"

"I want you to investigate this death…"

"What death?"

Mr Well's anger quickly returned. "How many times must I tell you to keep an eye on all available sources of information? On the _Muggle news_. An old woman was shot last night."

"_You_ want _me_ to investigate a _Muggle_ crime?"

"We need to find out if this was just a random shooting or if she was killed for a reason."

"That still doesn't explain why you're giving this to me."

"Frankly, I'm sick of your irresponsible unreliability. You're good Jack but you're not irreplaceable. Why investigating this case is in our interest however… The victim was one Phyllis Sagewood. A witch. More specifically, a counsellor in the Muggle Relations Department helping Muggle parents of new Hogwarts students."

"Someone _shot_ a witch?"

"Don't sound so surprised. Our brains are just as important to us as theirs are to Muggles."

"Yes, but how?"

"How can you stop something that you don't hear or see coming?"

"Right. So what do we know?"

"She was hit from above, I couldn't find out anything about the trajectory, so it could have been from any of the surrounding buildings. The bullet was from a rifle. If this rifle has a sniper scope it widens the search area considerably. I want you to follow the investigating detective around but don't interfere. You're only there to find out the killer's motive, not to be the hero."

"Okay, so where's this guy now?"

"You'll have to go to the station and ask." With that the fireplace was suddenly empty.

Jack wasn't surprised that Well had known so much about guns and bullets and all that. He would have been surprised if he didn't. Well believed a good Auror knew everything and used every available resource, which was why this particularly cruel punishment was possible. Well had contacts in the Muggle law enforcement. The bastard hadn't even told him where she was shot.

After leaving his flat, Jack went to the street and browsed at the Muggle newsstand.

"Oi! I no library! You buy, no read! Buy, buy, buy!"

Jack ignored the vendor and found the article he was looking for. The vendor lunged over his counter and managed to grab the top of the newspaper.

"Okay, okay! Here." Jack handed over some miscellaneous coins from his left pocket and the vendor let go.

"Thank you! Have nice day."

"Right," Jack said bitterly.

He read through the article quickly and discovered that the shooting had taken place just five blocks from the Ministry. He looked up to see a man hurrying for the stand his eye on the rack that held the newspaper Jack had just brought.

"Here have this one. I'm finished with it," Jack said, thrusting the paper into the man's hands.

It took the man a moment to realise it was the paper he wanted but when he turned to thank Jack, he was gone.

Jack had ducked down an alley and Apparated to the Ministry. As he headed towards MLD offices he saw a man coming towards him and groaned inwardly. The 5"2 athlete gave him an insincere smile and stopped in the middle of the narrow corridor.

"Jack, where have you been? It seems like it's been years since we last hung out."

"It has been years, you arrogant prick."

"Oh Jackie. What would grandmother think if she heard you use such language?"

"And what would she say if you ever managed to think of someone but yourself and visited? Do I know you?"

"Jack, here I was trying to put old differences behind us and you decide to be all hostile."

"You seduced my girlfriend, waited until I found out, then dumped her."

"History, Jack."

"Last month, Potter."

James Potter, Quidditch champion of the world, shrugged. "You take things so personally, cousin."

"That's because it is personal _cousin_. Get out of my way."

James stepped aside with a bow, "Remember this moment well, as this is the last time James Potter will bow to anyone."

"You're a disgrace to your name and your father," Jack said, stepping past James.

James grabbed his arm and spun Jack around. "At least my mother wasn't a Mudblood whore."

Jack walked away, leaving a dazed James on the floor, his eye quickly turning black.

He walked into the office and was immediately accosted by Mr Well.

"Granger! What are you doing here? I told you…"

"Please, sir. I thought the quickest thing to do was to ask you where the nearest police station is."

Well almost smiled. "And why would you want to know that?"

"Because the shooting happened five blocks from here."

Well slapped Jack on the back. "The boy can learn!"

"I'd hardly call myself a boy, sir."

"I'd hardly call myself fat, but that doesn't change what other people think does it?" Mr Well asked. "Stop impersonating a fish and get into my office. It'll be easier to show you on a map."

After visiting the police station and being jerked around for almost an hour, he learnt that Detective Goods was the man he wanted and he was at the scene. He arrived at the scene only to be stopped at the police tape.

"Special Agent Granger, MLD," Jack snapped holding up his identification. "Let me through."

"MLD? Never heard of it."

Jack touched his wand holster with the tip of his finger feeling a strong urge to use its contents on this smug looking constable. "How long have you been with the force?" he asked instead through gritted teeth.

"Six months," the constable answered proudly.

"I see. And how far do you expect your career to go?"

Suspecting a trick question, the constable hesitated and Jack continued, "Because you won't pass another day as an officer of the law if you don't let me through."

Panicked the young officer stepped aside and Jack strode towards three important looking men discussing something nearby, the constable close behind him.

"I'm looking for Detective Goods," Jack announced when he reached them, interrupting their conversation.

The shortest of the three turned and appraised him. He was stocky but not overweight with thinning brown hair, a bushy moustache and heavy eyebrows that his piercing green eyes glared at Jack from underneath. "Who's asking?" Goods asked gruffly.

"Special Agent Granger of MLD."

"Never heard of 'em," Goods replied dismissively with a glance at the constable.

The constable nodded hurriedly. "I'll get rid of him, sir."

"What about the name Phineas Well?"

"Well?" Goods asked, suddenly interested. "MLD, eh? I thought the boss said MI5. My mistake." This wasn't an apology. "Why this case would attract any sort of special attention is beyond me. Special lady?"

"May be," Jack replied. Now that his identity was established he had begun looking around.

He took no notice of Goods' grumbling as he examined the chalk outline. "The paper said it happened around five or six?"

"That's what it said."

"I would say closer to six."

Surprised Goods said, "Yes. How could you tell?"

"Lucky guess." Jack wasn't going to tell him that most Ministry employees left work at about five-thirty. "Do you know where the bullet came from?"

"Not for certain. But from up there most likely," Goods replied, pointing to the five-storey building to the right, directly above the outline. "One of the lower storeys would be my guess from the entry wound."

"Have you found anything?"

"In the building? We're still searching. If it was a random shooting she was just unlucky, otherwise the killer knew her pretty well."

Jack looked up at the detective. "Knew her?"

Goods nodded curtly. "Well enough to know she'd pass by here."

"Right."

Finally, Goods could take it no longer. "Is there anything I should know?"

"Know?"

"Don't play dumb with me! Do you know anything about this case you're not saying?"

"Hard to say, really." A look at the detective's face made Jack sigh. "Look, I can promise you what I know has nothing to do with the case. If we leave it at that we can all get along and I'll be out of your hair in no time."

Goods obviously wasn't convinced but he let it go for now.

There wasn't really much to learn yet so after examining the scene physically and, when no one else was looking, magically, Jack returned to the Ministry after losing the tail Goods had stuck on him.

"Hey Granger! Solved it yet?"

Jack glanced at the group of grinning Aurors on his way to his desk. "Oh yes. Ha ha."

Indra left the group and followed him. Indra Patil resembled her mother, Padma. Padma had married a Muggle man of non-Indian descent. Her family had learnt to live with it but he had taken her last name and they had given their daughter an Indian name so as not to rub salt in the wounds. "Seriously, Jack. How is it going? Do you think the killer knew she was a witch?"

Jack smiled and shook his head. "I doubt it. But it's still too early to tell much of anything. Why the interest anyway? If you want, I'd gladly let you take it off my hands."

"Oh no. I'm sure Well gave it to you because you're the man for the job. It must need your… particular skills."

"Just what are you saying, Indra?"

Indra gave him a gentle shove. "You're the detective," she said with a grin, returning to her own desk.

"Auror, Indra. We're Aurors," Jack called after her.

Indra waved his correction off and smiled back at him. Jack returned her smile with a shake of his head and spun around in his chair. A strange feeling came over him. It was getting stronger. Suddenly he was lifted off his chair and slammed into the ceiling. He hung there while the other Aurors hurried over, wands drawn. At that moment an owl landed on his desk with an official looking letter in its beak. It dropped the letter before taking off again.

"It's addressed to you Jack. From the Wizengamot," Indra said worriedly, handing it up to Jack.

Jack tore open the envelope and read the letter. "Bastard!"

"What is it?"

"My cousin, bloody James Potter!"

Jack refused to say more, other than to reassure them all that his being stuck to the ceiling was not dark magic. Two hours later, Jack fell onto his desk.

"Ow."

Now it was his turn to send a letter. Jack sent an explicit owl to James telling him exactly how he felt about the restraining order. Then he sent one to the Department of Justice to repeal it.

"I'm going to kill him," Jack muttered to himself, picking up the now broken ornament his mother had given him when he'd first gotten this job. "Bastard."


	2. No Coincidence

Chapter 2: **No Coincidence**

"They're evil, Molly," he stated when he came down for breakfast. "I'm glad you agree with me now. I'm sorry I hurt you but you don't know how bad they are."

His wife said nothing. She just sat expressionless, staring at the wall beside her.

"I wish things were different, Molly." He walked up behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Molly sagged and her head dropped onto his shoulder. "Poor Charity. Don't worry Molly, I'll save her." He kissed his wife's forehead and murmured, "I'll save everyone. Just like I saved you."

His wife still said nothing and as he released her and stepped away, focused on having breakfast, she slid off the chair and landed with a thud, her eyes now staring at the microwave on the bench. She had been dead for almost three days now. He had removed the kitchen knife from her chest when he had sat her in the chair, apologising as he did so. He'd had to do it; she had brought the curse down on them. Their daughter was evil and it couldn't be his fault. He had spent the last thirteen years atoning for his mistakes. He'd taken Molly's confession and forgiven her before she'd paid the penalty for her sins, he'd saved her. Now he just needed to save Charity, his daughter, but before that, he had to stop the evil that had taken her.

* * *

"It wasn't robbery."

Jack's eyes snapped into focus. "Say what now?"

Detective Goods gave him a particularly dark glare. "The murder. The motive wasn't robbery. Though perhaps they just considered her foreign currency worthless."

Jack's eyes fell on the table where a purse lay, its contents spilled on the table. Jack sucked in a breath, mentally kicking himself as he looked down at the small pile of knuts and galleons. He had forgotten to swap them for Muggle money when he had examined the body at the scene.

"Have you ever seen anything like them? I can't find any countries with such currency though we haven't yet found all the more obscure forms," Detective Goods said, his scrutinising gaze fixed on Jack.

"Nope, never seem them before."

Goods went slightly red but didn't press him. Jack knew if this case wasn't over soon things were going to get very difficult.

The door burst open. "Sir, I-" the officer stopped when he saw Jack. He pulled the detective aside and spoke too quietly for Jack to hear. Too quietly at least until Jack muttered a simple charm to enhance his hearing.

"…news, Detective. It seems we have another victim. Forensics have yet to confirm but it appears to be the same shooter."

Jack stopped listening. If it was their shooter than his part in this case was almost over.

A moment later, Goods was walking towards the door. Jack intercepted him. "Going somewhere?"

"There's some urgent business I have to take care of."

"I'm coming too," Jack insisted.

The detective stared hard at Jack for a moment before grunting. "Fine. Suit yourself."

Jack was grinning when he stepped out of the police car. He noticed the strange looks he was getting and tried to conceal it. It had been quite a rush riding in a speeding car with the siren blaring and flashing overhead.

He felt slightly uneasy as he looked around. The ministry building was visible someway down the street. He joined the detective as he reached the police tape and followed him to the white sheet, his stomach tightened slightly at the sight of the red stain on the part that covered the head. As they moved closer the sheet was pulled back to reveal a face, the eyes stared up at the sky blankly; a hole the size of a knut was ripped into the forehead. Jack forced his focus away from the wound.

"Shit!" he cursed as he recognised Joe Winters, a member of Ministry security.

"You know him?" Detective Goods asked an edge to his voice that compelled Jack to tell the truth.

"Yes, I- we went to school together." He stared at Joe for a moment. "May I?" he asked gesturing towards the body.

Goods nodded and Jack bent down next to the body. He looked up at Goods who was standing right behind him. "Can I have a moment?"

Again Goods nodded and he moved away, as did the others, but he didn't take his eyes off Jack for a moment, foiling his plan to remove any items of a magical nature. So instead, he studied Joe's face. Joe was a Muggle-born wizard who worked at the security desk. He checked in visitors. Used to check in visitors. The expression on Joe's face was peaceful. Just like Phyllis Sagewood, he had not heard or seen his death coming. Jack was worried. He knew very little about Muggle weaponry, though there were many other things his mother had taught him about. Despite his lack of knowledge, it seemed to him that it had to be someone well trained in the use of the rifle. Many witches and wizards had an advanced sort of intuition but it is no more helpful or informative than what Muggles sometimes experience. The main difference is the sense of danger felt is never wrong. Both victims would have most likely been aware that something was wrong but despite this they had been unprepared for what happened. The assassin had managed to remain undetected.

Jack sighed and stood. He could do nothing with Detective Goods watching him so closely. It frustrated him, Goods was already suspicious enough, if he found more wizard gold or other unusual objects on the body it would raise more questions Jack couldn't answer and their already strained association could be broken. And Jack needed Goods, particularly since it seemed the murders might not be random. However, because the shootings both happened close to the Ministry the fact that both victims were magical could still be a coincidence.

* * *

"Yes? What can I do for you?" the woman behind the desk asked, her friendly smile faltering in the face of the stranger's icy stare.

"You a witch?" he growled clutching at something under his coat.

"Excuse me?" the woman picked up the phone receiver next to her, poised to dial.

"My daughter's at Hogwarts," he confided watching closely for a reaction. The woman just looked confused.

"That's nice," she said placatingly. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we can help you."

She watched anxiously as he complied and shuffled off to the waiting area. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pushed the button and dialled four numbers.

"Sir, there's a crazy old man out here. He asked me if I was a witch, then said something about a school, hog-something. I thought I'd just let you know before I called the police."

"Thank you Stacey, no… don't call the police. I think I will see him."

"Yes, Mr-"

"No, just send him in."

"Yes sir."

While the secretary spoke to her boss, the man sat staring at the wall. Just like every time he stopped and was still, his mind drifted back over the past and inevitably led to gunfire and screaming. Men running and flashes of coloured light and more pain, and a lot of confusion. Faces rose in his mind, his friends, his unit. The faces contorted and he could hear their screams of pain as if he was there again. As if it was happening now, as if he hadn't spent sixteen years trying to forget.

"Sir?"

He was jerked back to the present and looked up at the secretary as she beckoned him to follow. He looked around at the waiting room for a business called Magical Connections. It looked completely normal but he wasn't fooled. He was certain it was a front for some magical purpose. What that was he wasn't sure, but the name was so obvious. He was sure it was a joke, so they could laugh at normal, good people who didn't know the truth; that magic exists, and it is evil.

The secretary led him to an expensive-looking door and knocked.

A voice drifted through the door. "Enter."

She opened the door and beckoned the man forward, closing the door behind him and returning to her desk.

Once inside, the man looked around at the antique bookshelves and desk, both were decorated with more expensive looking items. The walls were painted a dark green set off by blood-red carpeting. His eyes were drawn back to the desk and the man who sat behind it. He seemed to be tall and thin, it was difficult to say for certain as he sat behind such a large desk. His dark skin and deep-set eyes hid his eye colour but the visitor's eyes were concentrated on the man's clothing. He wore robes.

"What can I do for you, Mr…?"

"Whitney," the man replied, dismayed that he told the truth.

The man behind the desk smiled. It was a friendly smile but the shining white of his teeth made it seem predatory. "Mr Whitney… interesting."

"Perhaps I should be going…"

"Nonsense! You just got here. Besides, you've still to tell to what I owe the… pleasure." The man's eyes seemed to bore into Mr Whitney searchingly, and Whitney squirmed, hoping irrationally that he couldn't see what he had done.

The man suddenly sat back in his chair with a thoughtful look. A grin formed on his lips and it grew wider and wider as Mr Whitney watched, getting more and more nervous as he begun to edge towards the door.

The man sat forward again and said seriously, "I can help you."

"I-I don't know what you mean," Mr Whitney stammered feeling suddenly way out of his depth.

"I think you do, Laurence."

Laurence Whitney started and lunged towards the door but the man behind the desk said something and the air seemed to take on the consistency of treacle, rapidly getting thicker and thicker until he couldn't move at all.

The man got up, moved around his desk and approached Laurence. "We want the same thing. I can help you. With my help you can take out the most powerful wizards and witches, even the Minister of Magic himself."

It took all his cunning but he managed to convince Laurence of his support. Once Laurence left, the man sat again behind his desk, his chin resting on his interlocked fingers. He sat that way for a moment staring at his desk before suddenly standing and turning to the fireplace behind him. Taking some powder from a pot on the mantelpiece, he threw it in the fire and said a name. Soon a familiar face appeared.

"Dray," he said warmly.

"Bliss! What's going on?"

"Something huge. And if we are to take advantage of it, we are going to need all those we can trust or preferably manipulate."

"What is it?"

"I'll just say that you may soon get your dream job."

"What?" the head scoffed, "Minister of Magic." at the man's expression, steel-grey eyes widened. "You're serious? Merlin's Balls! Are you going to tell me anything else?"

"Not until we can all get together."

The blond head nodded, "I'll call Pansy, now. Thanks Blaise."

The fire went dark and Blaise Zabini felt his heart flutter with excitement. He didn't want to be Minister, well not at first. This way Draco will take the fall if it all goes wrong. But who would suspect them? A mad muggle killing off Ministry officials was hardly going to lead back to him. He had a respectable business with wizards and muggles alike; hell, his secretary was a muggle. Who would question such an impartial businessman when he stepped in to stop the chaos?

* * *

A/N: I wasn't planning on revealing who the wizard in the background was yet, if at all, but things hardly ever go completely to plan. Please review, but keep in mind that canon characters who might seem OC are a lot older than they were in the books. For example, Harry is about 49. So changes should be expected.


End file.
